


Sunset(rise) With a Werewolf

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Derek Has Issues, Getting Lost, M/M, Multi, Running Away, Sourwolf, Stiles Angst, Stiles Feels, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Werewolf Derek, sunrise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:54:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have been together for a while, but Stiles wants more affection. Stiles leaves in anger, and Derek searches for him. General Hale Pack feels and Derek feels.</p><p>Originally based on a prompt from Sterek Week.</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p><p>-Stiles Kolpath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset(rise) With a Werewolf

Stiles had grown accustomed to the woods around the Hale house. He pretty much knew ever tree, rock, and leaf-strewn hidey-hole there was within a half-acre radius. There were several trails that led away from the clearing around in various directions, and with Derek, he had explored them all at some point.

Well, all except one. One he explored by himself. It was an off-shoot of one of the main trails that was barely noticeable, unless you actually paused to consider it. Which Stiles had done, because where it intersects with the main trail, there was a recognizable large root that protruded from the ground. And by ‘consider,’ Stiles meant ‘totally-wasn’t-paying-attention-and-tripped-over-it-faceplanting-into-the-ground.’ That was how Stiles noticed the trail, as unkempt as it was, because the dirt was still lightly cleared and packed in a thin rut leading away from the root. Once he picked himself up and brushed himself off, he decided to follow it. It wandered lazily through the woods, and ended at a nearly solid thicket of tree-bushes that Stiles couldn’t identify. He had an honorary degree in Lycanthropy, not botany.

It had made him hesitate at first, because the trail went right through the thicket, which he decided might be some kind of plant orgy of poison-ivy, or oak, or whatever. Nevertheless, he decided to throw caution to the wind and scramble his way through the underbrush. He had very nearly gotten stuck in the process. That would have been embarrassing. He was happy Derek hadn’t been around for that, or else he would never have heard the end of it.

However, once on the other side of the almost-wall of bushes and trees, what Stiles found did not disappoint. It was a lake. Not very big, but surrounded on all sides by tall, straight trees, old-growth, by the looks of them. There was a small clearing that ringed the lake, covered in short grasses and wildflowers. The trail dead-ended at a small dirt patch by the lake, next to a boulder, which jutted out into the water. It was utterly beautiful and quiet. Stiles drank it in. He would have to bring Derek back here at some point. Maybe for some kind of romantic picnic, or something. Stiles liked that idea. It was almost sunset. Stiles wanted to stick around to watch it, because it would have been gorgeous, with the sun setting through the trees on the other side of the lake, the shadows dispersed by the light through the leaves, reflecting off the water, coloring everything in shades of red and gold. But, alas, it was late, and he was alone. And considering Beacon Hills is apparently the nexus of all things that go ‘bump’ in the night, Stiles figured it was probably a good idea to head back to the house. He couldn’t wait to show Derek.

**  
He scoffed at the memory of that. Derek was not really the romantic type. Unless ‘romantic’ also meant ‘broody’ and ‘scowling’. He couldn’t even get the werewolf to hold his hand outside of the house, or the Camaro. It was a constant subject of arguments between them, Derek’s lack of affection for his younger mate. Granted, Stiles didn’t really care most of the time, as the alpha was always affectionate and attentive, almost cloyingly so, in the solitary confines of their house. Stiles would never admit it, but he loved when Derek would occasionally nuzzle his neck and deeply inhale his scent. Or kiss his cheek quietly while they sat on the couch and watched TV, or fall asleep with Stiles’ fingers intertwined within his own. But he wanted the occasional PDA. Was that too much to ask? Not like dry-humping each other in the middle of a store or something, just something little, like Derek holding his hand when they walked around the park, or grazing the small of Stiles’ back with a palm as he walked by in a deserted grocery store aisle. A quick peck on the cheek when Derek dropped him off back at work after lunch. Something. Ok, that and Stiles might have a slight kink for doing it on the hood of the Camaro. That was definitely not going to happen, apparently. 

Regardless, he knew that Derek would never approve of some kind of romantic rendezvous at the little lake in the woods, for fear that others might be around to catch them, or something else equally ridiculous. So he never told Derek about the little lake, or the trail, for that matter. It was his little secret place, where he could go to clear his head alone. The odd part was, whenever he was there, he never really felt alone. Typically his thoughts always travelled back to Derek.

So he walked the trail back to the Hale house, or rather, the Hale-Stilinski house. It was theirs, after all. Theirs and their pack’s. Well, whatever particular members happened to be staying over on any given night. They had it renovated a few years after Stiles had graduated from college and moved back to Beacon Hills, and it was back to being the quaint little home that it was all those years ago. You know, before Derek’s entire family was subsequently murdered within it. But Stiles and Derek didn’t dwell on it. In fact, Derek had insisted that they try to keep it almost exactly the same as it was before the fire. He wanted to rebuild his—their life and their house the way it should have been. Stiles, hopeless romantic that he was, loved it, and he loved Derek that much more for it.

So you see, while Derek was perfectly romantic at home, in private, very little privacy was actually given at the Hale house. Not with a bunch of teenage betas with super-wolf hearing running around. Whatever, Stiles was not thinking about it, especially when he walked in the door to find Scott and Allison sitting at the Kitchen table, Isaac watching TV, and Derek nowhere in sight. Probably upstairs, avoiding everyone again.

That was another issue, ever since their little pack had driven out the Alphas. With Deucalion and Ennis dead, an uneasy truce with Kali created, and Ethan and Aiden being sort of ‘assimilated’ into the Hale pack (why Derek allowed that, Stiles could never really be sure, but the alpha had never steered him wrong before, and he trusted his judgment on the matter), Derek had taken to avoiding large groups of people, and since said large groups invariably meant ‘his pack,’ Stiles was getting worried. Instead Derek would find a quiet room, and read. Simple things, like the newspaper, or a magazine, or a book he picked up from the bookstore. Stiles didn’t mind at first, but then he started noticing that whenever the pack came over, Derek would quietly slip upstairs when they were all hanging out, having a good time, playing video games, watching a movie or tv or something, ordering pizza or Chinese food, or grilling on the back porch.

Stiles did eventually call him on it, but Derek didn’t really give him more than half-cocked answers, when he deigned to add words to the usual scowl he sported when Stiles questioned his odd behavior. That right there was a testament to Derek’s love for Sties. Anyone else would have been completely ignored if they asked him why he was being such a sourwolf. Stiles started using that name for Derek when he was being antisocial.

**  
Stiles walked in the front door and said hello to everyone, mussed up Scott’s hair, and nodded to Isaac. Then he headed upstairs, and opened the door to their bedroom.

“Where’d you run off to?” Derek looked up from his book. He was reclining in bed, in his usual too-tight Henley and jeans, with his feet crossed. His toes were absent-mindedly playing with each other, Stiles noticed. He hated how adorable Derek was when he wasn’t even trying.

Stiles was feeling playful as he stripped off his jacket. He scoffed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Derek scoffed in return, and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Whatever, just tell whoever he is that he needs to have you back in time for dinner.”

“Oh, so I don’t tell you where I was, and you automatically assume I have some new, better, more-attractive werewolf boyfriend?” Stiles let himself smirk. Derek, for as much of a pain-in-the-ass as he was, loved Stiles’ penchant for wisecracking. And, you know, Stiles.

“Hm. Whatever.” Derek returned his eyes to the book, giving a feigned-apathetic shrug in the process.

Stiles couldn’t resist. He reached into the hamper and whipped the first thing he found at Derek’s head in retaliation for his ambivalence. It was underwear. Stiles was triumphant. Derek looked positively murderous. Particularly as Stiles’ dirty underwear slid off of his face. Derek gingerly closed his book, methodically marking the page and sighing. He glared at Stiles with an evil grin on his face.

“You are so de—“

Stiles didn’t let him finish. He bolted for the bathroom door. Derek was already across the room, blocking his way. Stiles hauled ass for the bedroom door. Derek wasn’t quick enough to block that one. Stiles jumped down the steps four at a time, and sprinted to the front door in his socks. Derek didn’t follow.

“What the hell?” At the noise, Scott and Allison looked up from their card game. Or holding hands sickeningly. Or something, Stiles wasn’t really sure. He was trying to catch his breath from his sprint through the house, trying to figure out why Derek stopped chasing him.

“Nothing. Official Stilinski business. Nothing to see here.” He imitated his best Sheriff voice. For good measure, he yelled “sourwolf!” up the stairs at his antisocial werewolf.

“Whatever, dude. If you guys are going to get all gross, at least keep it in your own room.” Scott returned his gaze to Allison, disregarding Stiles incredulity at the statement. 

“First of all, Mr. McCall,” Stiles intoned, “this is my house, and I will do what, wherever I want, in as many positions as I want it.” Stiles continued with the Sheriff impersonation, swaggering over to the table, wiggling his eyebrows seductively at Allison until he was right next to Scott’s ear. He whispered menacingly. “Number forty-seven. The kitchen table. Bent ov—“

“LALALALALALALALALA…” Scott had dropped his cards and had his fingers in his ears. Allison giggled. Isaac even chuckled to himself from the couch and shook his head. Stiles was satisfied in his victory. But he would have been more satisfied to see Derek’s mortified expression, had the sourwolf been in the room to hear it. The stupid alpha never came down the stairs. He probably did hear it, though, and the thought of Derek shaking his head into his hands upstairs was cause to give him a little smile.

So Stiles headed back to the stairs and ascended quickly. When he peeked into the room, Derek was right where he left him, on the bed with his book in his lap, shaking his head into his hands. Stiles, once again, felt triumphant. “Hah, I knew you would do that.”

“Of course I would. Stiles, why would you say that out loud?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Stiles held out his hands in a slow-down motion. “Wait, are you mad at me? For making fun of Scott? It is kind of my pastime.”

“Because, y—“ Derek cut himself off, waving a hand in dismissal. “Nevermind.”

“Because what, Der?” Stiles demanded. His face was as serious as it was incredulous. It was a considerable feat, considering the amount of love he usually showed the scowling werewolf.

“Because… You always do that. You say shit. Shit that makes me uncomfortable. You make me do stuff that I don’t want to do. All. The. Time.” Stiles blinked. “I’m not built like you, Stiles. I wish I was. You don’t care what people think.” Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed, but he was bracing his torso with his arms, which were locked at the elbow. Stiles was definitely not staring at the ridges of the alpha’s perfect triceps while he talked.

Stiles stopped mid-thought at Derek’s statement. His expression instantly shifted from angry and questioning to simply inquisitive. He moved to the side of the bed where Derek was sitting, and sat down next to the wolf, trying to make direct eye contact. Derek was staring down at Stiles’ legs. He would not budge. Stiles laid a hand on the alpha’s back. “What makes you think that I don’t care?”

“You are just always so… forward with everything. It makes me uneasy. People stare. My pack—“ Derek cut himself off again.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “What about your pack? Wait… Do I embarrass you? You think I make you look weak, don’t you?” Derek didn’t say anything.

“I do, don’t I.” It was a statement. Stiles was getting angry again. “And you are worried that I am making you look weak in front of your betas.” Again, it was a statement. Derek didn’t disagree. He just continued to glare at the ground. Stiles scoffed. What he said next, he regretted before it left his mouth.

“It’s not like you have been a very good alpha anyway.” He said it quietly. He could feel Derek tense. The werewolf’s hands… nope, those are his claws, began to grip at the sheets, knuckles white from the effort. The fabric ripped in quiet desperation.

Derek chuckled menacingly. “See, you don’t care. You wouldn’t say something like that if you did.” There was heat in his voice. He was trying to push Stiles away. He knew it. It had happened before. And Stiles was angry, as well as stubborn, so he was going to let it happen.

Stiles stood up and faced the alpha unwilling to make eye contact. “You’re right. I don’t care. Just like you.”

“Stiles.”

“I mean, it makes sense. That is why Laura died…”

“Stiles.” Derek growled and winced. 

“And Erica.” The icing on the evil cake that Stiles was decorating. All his anger was coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself. “Hell, it’s why you didn’t find Cora sooner. Jesus, if you actually cared about your fucking family, you would have found h—“

“Stiles. Shut up.” Derek bit down on each word and looked at him.

“No. You don’t care. That’s why you threw Isaac out, why you pushed Scott away, why it took you three years to notice that I didn’t actually hate you. Why you shove me away at every chance. It makes me wish I had never met you, because all you do is hurt people. You hide behind the whole ‘orphan’ thing, and then you push people that care about you away.” Stiles paused. ‘The worst part is that you just sink back into spineless self-pity after you do it, and blame the world for your own melodramatic problems.” Stiles was breathing hard. “You are pathetic. And it makes me hate you, sometimes.” 

“STILES!” Derek roared. Stiles heard the tv instantly shut off, heard chairs slam back against the floor and feet pound up the stairs. Derek was in full-wolf mode, claws out, eyes red, and fangs bared. Stiles had his back to the door as Scott, Isaac, and Allison piled in through it, shoving Stiles forward, their eyes wide in surprise and fear. And they all started speaking at once.

“What happened?”

“What the hell is going on?”

“What the fuck, Derek?”

Stiles interrupted, squinting his eyes at the noise. “Nothing is going on. I’m leaving.”

“Stiles wait—“ Stiles didn’t turn to see who said that. He stormed downstairs, grabbing his coat, and slammed the front door as he left. He shoved his shoes on as he clomped down the steps and across the yard, onto his familiar trail. But it was very nearly dark. He started having trouble following it, and eventually came to the point where he literally could see nothing. He crashed aimlessly through the brush, whacking his face on several low-hanging branches in the process. Spiderwebs. He flailed. Why was it always spiderwebs? He panicked. He kept stumbling through the woods, and as he did, he felt tears come to his eyes as his breaths got shorter and more jagged. His walk broke into a run, and he continued to crash through the underbrush. He tried to drive the tears back into his eyes, but he found that he couldn’t. As he ran, they came unabated.

So Stiles cried. He cried for the terrible things he said to Derek, for the terrible thoughts that brought the words to his mouth, for how angry he was at Derek for seeming to be so unattached to him, for how angry he was at himself for doing the same thing that he accused Derek of—pushing people away. All because of some kind of childish need for attention. It was stupid. And it made Stiles all the more upset. He felt stupid and immature.

When Stiles finally stopped running, he realized that he had reached a small clearing, or at least it looked small, based on the fact that he couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black of the woods. Right. The woods. Back to panic mode. He hadn’t been paying attention to the way he had run. He was pretty sure he started at his usual trail, but he had no way of being sure. He checked his pockets. No cell phone. Great. He was going to die alone in the woods, all because he picked a stupid fight with a werewolf. A werewolf he loved. More than anything. So he sat down, stewing over what he had said to Derek, replaying it over and over again in his mind, shaming himself more and more. He sobbed quietly in the darkness of his hands.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard yelling in the distance. Someone was calling his name. For the briefest moment, he considered not answering out of spite, but he put the thought aside as he heard slight movement in the bushes around him. He answered the voice. It sounded like Derek, but he couldn’t be sure.

“STI-ALLS! STI-ALLS!”

“Over here.” Stiles said just above speaking. He knew that whoever it was would catch it with their werewolf senses. Derek came bounding through the bush on all fours, still wolfed-out, eyes glowing red in the darkness. If Stiles hadn’t known what he was, he would have been terrified. Instead, he was just relieved. He probably made a ridiculous sight, actually, sitting cross-legged in the dark in the middle of the woods, picking grass and leaves out of the ground absentmindedly, ghosts of his crying still blotching his face.

Derek was still wolfed-out and breathing heavily. “What. The. Fuck. Stiles.” He was pissed. Stiles couldn’t blame him.

Stiles stared at the ground sheepishly. “Sorry.” He said it quietly.

“Don’t ever do that again. Do you even know how long we have been looking for you?” Stiles had lost all concept of time as he had crashed through the woods.

“A couple of hours?”

“About four hours, to be exact.” Derek still hadn’t shifted back, yet. He essentially growled the words at his wayward mate.

“Holy shit.” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Where are the others?”

“I sent them back to the house, told them I would have better luck finding you on my own.”

“That… doesn’t make any sense.” But Stiles wasn’t complaining.

Derek turned around, studying something through the trees. “I know these woods, Stiles. Like the back of my hand. I knew where I would find you.”

“And where is that?” Stiles was genuinely curious, if not still slightly angry. He literally could not see a thing. It wasn’t until he heard the fait sound of the water almost barely rippling against rock that he realized he was near a lake. Was it? No. It couldn’t be. Unless… Yup. It was the one he had deliberately kept secret from Derek. He could barely make out the edge of the water, and the big boulder in the darkness, as the clouds above shifted and revealed the thinnest of crescent moons. It was the little lake he had found off of the main trail what seemed like ages ago. “I’m sorry.” Stiles blurted it out. There was no rhyme or reason to it.

Derek was still looking off into the woods at something. He didn’t say anything. Stiles began essentially talking to the back of the alpha’s head.

“I shouldn’t have brought up Erica, or Laura. Or Cora. I shouldn’t have picked a fight with you about that. It was stupid and I’m sorry.” Stiles let out a sigh, as if to punctuate the apology. Derek looked slightly back over his shoulder. He was still wolfed out.

“You were right, you know.” Derek said it quietly. Stiles wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly. “It was my fault that they died. All of them. I pushed them away. I pushed you away too. And it’s my fault for being so damn…” He struggled for the right words “… insecure. I’m really not a good alpha. I kind of suck at leading my pack.”

Stiles considered the words. “You aren’t insecure. And you aren’t a bad alpha. I just said that because I was angry at you, Der.”

“But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Derek had turned around and de-wolfed. His eyebrows looked expectantly at Stiles. Stiles definitely did not notice how adorable it made his face look. He didn’t, really. It was too dark.

“I’m not saying you don’t have areas you need to improve…” Stiles could almost feel Derek’s scowl return in the darkness. He heard the crunching of footsteps get closer to him, and felt a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he reached for it, and the werewolf pulled him up to his feet. Stiles noticed that Derek didn’t let his hand go like he normally did. “… But overall, you’re a great alpha. I mean, you chased down one of your lost pups in the middle of the night. If that isn’t being a good alpha, I don’t know what is.” Stiles joked. He still felt a little sad.

“Shit. Speaking of which…” Derek pulled out his phone and tapped away on it, screen lighting up his face in the darkness. It startled Stiles briefly.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting Scott know that I found you. He was freaking out more than I was when you left. Allison had to literally hold him back to keep him from running off into the woods to look for you. I couldn’t even stop him.” Derek sent the message, and killed the screen. Stiles couldn’t see him do it, but he leaned over and gingerly kissed Stiles’ forehead.

‘If you ever leave like that again, I will kill you. Literally.”

Stiles chuckled. “I believe it.”

Derek dropped the phone into his pocket, and slid his hand into the small of Stiles’ back, turning him towards the lake. They began walking around it, from what Stiles guessed based on the faint moonlight. Stiles kept close to Derek. There was a breeze, and Stiles was cold from apparently catching all the moisture off of every single leaf as he crashed through the bushes earlier. It was working its way through his jacket.

“Where are we going? Isn’t the trail back the other way?”

Derek nodded in the darkness. “The sun will be up soon. I thought you might want to catch it.” Stiles didn’t say anything. Nothing would make him happier. They kept walking in silence. Derek’s hand shifted Stiles’, and he interlaced their fingers. Stiles wrapped his other arm around Derek’s hand-holding-one, feeling safer because he was attached to the biggest, baddest monster in the forest. They walked for some time in complete silence this way, until Stiles finally broke it.

“You know, I always wanted to bring you here, ever since I found the place.”

“I know. I had a hunch when you came back that first time you found it. I could tell that you wanted to tell me about it.”

“Well if you knew, why didn’t you ever say anything?” Stiles asked in surprise. How the hell did the werewolf know literally everything?

“You stopped short of telling me about it. You kind of opened your mouth, then just shut it and let it go. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t follow you here a couple of times.”

“You followed me?” Stiles feigned incredulity again. It was apparently his only go-to response.

“Yeah, I get lonely when you aren’t around.”

“You had a house full of betas. How does that make sense? And why didn’t you just pop out of the bushes or something when I got here?”

“Because, you looked like you wanted alone-time. Which I totally get. I didn’t want to disturb you if you were… you know…”

“What?”

Derek sighed. “… If you were trying to get away from me.” Stiles could almost hear Derek’s eyes shift away from Stiles in embarrassment.

“I’ll admit, I do want to kill you sometimes, and it is all I can do to not sprinkle some wolfsbane into your morning coffee,” Stiles could feel Derek’s mutinous glare, “but you always around makes me happy.” Derek sighed. It was the most perfect, quiet sigh Stiles had ever heard. The sky was beginning turning grey with the light of the sun. Stiles didn’t realize how late it had been when Derek had finally found him.

Derek led him to a somehow-more-secluded area on what Stiles guessed was the Eastern side of the lake, as it was directly across from the boulder that marked the trail leading back home. Apparently the lake was a lot larger than it looked. The spot looked well-worn, like some kind of large animal had been using the small alcove of grass as a place to bed down each night. The dirt was hard-packed, surrounded by thick grass, with a clear view of the opposite side of the lake.

Stiles was beginning to think that the werewolf had found this spot quite a long time ago. He was beginning to understand that the little lake had never truly been his secret. It was Derek’s. He had kept this place to himself because he sometimes needed to escape his life. Stiles got that. He worried if he had ruined it for the alpha. After all, he was the persistent little kid that somehow made it under the wire.

Derek seemed to know what he was thinking. He looked at Stiles with knowing eyes and a restrained little smile that was definitely not the most adorable thing in the world to Stiles. Stiles scoffed. He and Derek had sat down on the packed earth, they were close, and Stiles had his arms loosely wrapped around his knees. Derek’s head was resting lightly on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles leaned against it softly before he started talking.

“Are you worried that me forcing your guard down will hurt the pack?” There was no malice in the question. Stiles simply wanted to know. He heard Derek’s eyelids snick open.

Derek answered truthfully. The first, dim rays of orange sunshine were beginning to poke through the bottoms of the trees on the far side of the lake. “…Yeah, sometimes.”

“You know they love you, regardless of how… guarded you are, right?” Derek said nothing. Stiles continued. “In fact, I know they would love you more if you were yourself around them, like you are with me.” Derek shifted uneasily. Stiles could feel the werewolf’s retort coming before it was actually said. So he cut across the wordless noise that Derek made as he was about to speak with a whisper into the alpha’s hair. “You aren’t Deucalion. The pack doesn’t think you are weak.” Derek remained silent. Stiles could hear the wheels turning in his brain.

Quietly, hesitantly, Derek posed the following question, “how do you know?”

“Because they stick around, Sourwolf.” Derek’s heart gave a shudder at Stiles’ name for him. Usually it annoyed him to no end, but as the human sat there, with Derek leaning on him, using him for support, he finally felt the warmth of that name. Of Stiles. Of the sun slowly rising through the trees.

Stiles was absentmindedly drawing circles in Derek’s back with his fingers at that moment. He felt the alpha tense, and then felt his big head move to look up at his face from its perch on his shoulder. Derek leaned up slightly, pressing a quiet kiss onto Stiles’ jaw. Stiles fought down a smirk. He was absurdly proud of the fact that he could make the usually broody and surly alpha turn into an adorable puppy. He enjoyed not being the sappy one for once. But he would definitely make fun of Derek later for it, just to see the scowl that he loved so much quickly return to his face. He resisted the urge to do just that now.

Derek somehow knew it, though, and he lifted his head up as he scowled at Stiles’ meant-to-be-strangled chuckle. God, Stiles loved that face. So he pulled it closer to his own and kissed it. He felt Derek’s eyelids close against his own face, and the werewolf’s pulse resounded in Stiles’ ears as he pressed his lips over Derek’s.

Stiles was enjoying the impromptu woodsy make-out session thoroughly, despite the events that had unfolded during the night, when he heard a crashing through the forest behind him. The pack had arrived, led by Scott, who, forever after, would be known by Stiles as ‘Scott McCall: Moment-killer’. He attempted to pull back from Derek’s lips, but Derek had other plans. He placed a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, keeping him close, and kept kissing him, running his fingers through the human’s hair. It was Stiles’ turn to be mortified. When Derek was good and done, he let out a sigh and pulled his face back, looking up from their semi-reclined position at the pack. 

He and Stiles looked back at Scott, who was standing next to Allison, slightly in front of Isaac, who was looking sheepish behind them. Lydia was there as well, and Danny. Oh, good, so everyone was here to witness his embarrassment. Ethan was even was lurking behind his boyfriend. Stiles willed himself to be swallowed up by the ground underneath him as his ears grew hot. Scott was standing with his mouth open, gaze working back and forth between Derek and Stiles, like he had absolutely no idea that the two were even a couple, or you know, had been for the past several years.

At least Allison had the decency to pull her boyfriend out of his stupor with a shake of his sleeve.

“So… uh…” Scott looked at the ground near Stiles. “Sorry.” Stiles swallowed. Hard. He looked at Derek, who had his gaze fixed on Scott and was smiling.

Wait, what?

Derek was smiling. Like, legitimately. Teeth and everything. Stiles had to do a double-take to make sure.

“Morning Scott.” It technically wasn’t morning yet. The sun had yet to rise above the trees. It was still cool, and the light was still grey, but tinges of orange were just beginning to make their way into it. Stiles watched it, hoping the rest of the group would not notice his embarrassment through the back of his head. Given that almost all of them were werewolves and/or supernatural, he knew that was a bleak prospect.

“Morning, Derek.” Scott sounded morose. Derek turned around to look at Stiles, who was side-glaring at him. “What are you guys doing, we were looking for you all night.” Scott sounded less morose.

Derek answered flatly. “Talking.”

“You couldn’t do that back at the hou—oww, grrrmph, what was that for?” Allison had kicked him in the shin. Hard. Stiles couldn’t see her face, but he knew that she was giving Scott the shut-up-and-let-them-be look. Stiles really loved Allison. Sometimes he thought she was the sanest member of the group. Well, her and Lydia, who was currently, quietly, turning the other betas around to head back into the woods the way they had come. Then Derek said something that Stiles did not expect. 

“Why don’t you guys stay and watch the sunrise with us?” Stiles’ side-glare instantly turned into a look of surprise. He stared Derek full-on in the face, wondering what the dastardly werewolf’s master plan was here. Derek quickly glanced at him before looking back at the rest of the pack.

“You guys sure?” Allison was, again, the one who answered.

“Yeah.” Derek waved them over as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows and crossing his ankles. Stiles was still sitting with his knees up, arms wrapped around them, but he was rocking back and forth slightly.

Tentatively, the pack walked up behind them and sat down around them, all looking across the lake at the sun, which was just starting to peak out above the trees. They were dead quiet, even Ethan. Stiles expected some kind of protest out of the former alpha, mostly because he really didn’t like the dude. A few clouds dotted the sky in front of it, and their shadows turned a brilliant shade of red as the light touched them. Most of the pack watched in earnest, a few daring to dart their eyes to the Stiles and Derek at the center. Derek sat up, reached around the front of Stiles’ knees, and grabbed a hand, interlacing his fingers through it. Stiles felt calmer at the feeling of it. He no longer wanted to set himself on fire.

Derek just laughed quietly. The pack wasn’t paying attention, they were all watching as the light crept across the lake to where they were sitting. Stiles couldn’t blame them. It really was gorgeous. So he leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder and watched too. They sat that way until the sun finally came to rest slightly above the treetops. 

**  
Stiles guessed it was somewhere around nine o’clock. He didn’t realize it at first, but he had drifted off briefly while they watched the sunrise. He lifted his head off of Derek’s shoulder and looked around. Scott was sprawled out on his back, Allison’s head on his chest. Lydia had dozed off with her head on Danny’s shoulder, with Ethan curled towards them. Isaac looked serene, with his hands folded on his chest, mouth slightly open, laying in the grass on his back.

Stiles looked at Derek, who he just now realized had been looking at him the whole time. There was something in that look. A certain satisfaction that Stiles had only seen hints of before. He smiled at Stiles’ face. Stiles didn’t think he would ever get tired of that.

“You missed the sunrise.”

Stiles yawned obnoxiously, stretching his free hand. Oh yeah, Derek was still holding it, drawing random little circles into it with his thumb. Stiles did not expect that, especially with the entire pack around. He wanted to comment, but didn’t, because he didn’t want to frighten off whatever fluffy dog had replaced his normally growl-y alpha werewolf. “Yeah, well it looks like they did too.” Stiles chuckled as he looked around, seeing the sleeping pack for the first time. Derek laughed quietly and leaned towards Stiles’ lips, gently kissing them. Stiles allowed it, but felt himself glancing around at the others apprehensively. Derek pulled back.

“What, Stiles, am I embarrassing you?” Derek looked positively jubilant that he had reversed their roles. But Stiles was a pro.

“Nah,” he shook his head nonchalantly, “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You know, the whole time-and-place thang?” He managed his best apathetic shrug. He failed. But if Derek saw it, he pretended not to notice.

Derek chuckled to himself. “You’re an idiot.” So he did notice. Stiles made a mental note to murder the alpha later for his insolence. It wasn’t quite an I’m-sorry-I’m-such-a-scowly-pain-in-the-ass-and-you’re-always-right Stiles was looking for, but he would take it. There would be another time for Stiles’ sunset with Derek. For now, he just enjoyed the close-to-perfect moment.

That is, until Scott bolted awake with a gasp, scaring the shit out of everyone, effectively killing it.

Stiles stood up among the slowly waking-and-stretching amalgamation of humans and werewolves and turned to Derek, offering an unnecessary hand to the still-sitting alpha.

“Ready to go, Sourwolf?” He asked with a smirk. Derek reached up, grasped his hand, and very nearly yanking awkward the human off his feet as he quickly stood up and pulled on the offered hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out my tumblr here for more of my writing: http://watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com/


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